


Chocolate and Platinum

by FcrestNymph



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: abandoned im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 18:55:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FcrestNymph/pseuds/FcrestNymph
Summary: Draco wakes up with a pounding headache and a girl that he identifies as a Mudblood before even remembering her name, attacking him in a hug."Draco! We were so worried, are you alright?!"Scratch that. Draco wakes up with two headaches.





	Chocolate and Platinum

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thump, thump, thump.

"Mmm. ."

He felt as though his head was bashed in, or perhaps hit with twenty curses at once. It took a moment to realize that his ears were ringing, and a minute more to realize that it kept him from hearing his surroundings. His surroundings. . . Now that he was thinking about it, where was he? Moments prior, he was. . . No, no, it couldn't be summer, it felt cold, where he was laying. He was laying on cold ground? That didn't make sense. He never slept somewhere as hard and uncomfortable as this. His bed was plush, covered in blankets with heating charms, and countless pillows, all with spells that made the other side cool, if he felt so inclined to flip it over. But this wasn't his bed. It wasn't anything that felt familiar. Not the beds in his dorm, not even the couch outside of his father's study, that he fell asleep on many a time, while waiting until his father had time for him.

His eyelids flickered, attempting to open, despite the glue that seemed to hold them shut. He moved his fingers. It took more energy than usual to make his muscles tense, stretching out his fingers like a cat that was partway through waking up. Alright, he thought. Get up.

He let out a groan, which he only noticed because of the way it rumbled in his throat as he forced his body to cooperate and sit up. Only once he was sitting upright did he manage to open his protesting eyes. He blinked, the low levels of light blinding him briefly. Where. . .was he? Draco looked about, blinking every other second, trying to get the sleep from his system. He felt as though he had just awoken from an extremely unrestful sleep, though he wasn't too sure how long of a rest it was. An hour? A day? He wasn't on the ground after all, he was on a stiff bed.

Candles were light on a small makeshift table beside him, the 'table' made of a small wooden crate. The low light made it hard to figure out where he was, but he would make do. There was a dirty rug beside his bed, and further along was a larger table. If Draco could fashion a guess, he would assume it was the size of a poor person's dining table. How simple. The roof, he found out as he looked upwards, wasn't made of anything solid. In fact, it looked as though someone had fasten a large piece of cloth over a few poles and let it hang. It looked like. . . Well, it looked like the roof of a tent. Was he in a tent? His nose wrinkled as he glanced about again, balancing his assumption with his surroundings.

He was, wasn't he?

His head was aching, and while sometimes he could figure out the cause due to the location of the pain, he couldn't this time. His entire head, inside and out, was throbbing. But, he noticed, the ringing had died down. It was nothing to owl home for, but it was an improvement, at least. His legs weren't as obedient as his arms, and therefore he couldn't even wiggle his toes much, so he focused his attention on the tent he was in. There was a table, and on it was a sack. Nothing fancy or attention grabbing, so he moved along. There were a few candles around, but only the one beside his bed was lit. All the others had melted onto the surface they were on, and the one on his bedside table seemed to have only been lit for a moment. That meant that, one, it was a candle charmed to stay lit, or two, it had been recently replaced and relit.

If the latter was the case, shouldn't there be someone nearby? From what he could tell, there wasn't anyone around. It was silent other than his breathing, and the air was still, unbothered by a recent disturbance. He glanced at the opening to the tent. From the small sliver that was left open, he could see that it was night. How long had he been asleep for?

Last he remembered, he was. . .He was. . .Was he with his father? No, he didn't think so. Hogwarts? No, he had left for the summer. Didn't he?

. . .Didn't he?

When was he? His brow furrowed, and he put all his energy and attention into remembering. Remembering what, exactly? He wasn't sure. He couldn't remember the last day, or the last week, or, well, he wasn't sure. Did he remember anything?

"My nAM--" He stopping, his face colouring as his voice hitched and broke. It felt odd to speak. He tried again. "My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy." He paused, then nodded and continued. "My birthdate is the fifth of July, 1980. My parents are Lucius Malfoy," His lips pursed as he spoke his father's name. "And Narcissa Malfoy." There, the basics were remembered, he wasn't crazy or at a loss for his identity. "I last remember going. . .Er, I last remember, um, doing. . .I last--"

"DRACO!"

Draco jumped, entire body tensing, his breath hitching. His head snapped to look at the source of the shout, his eyes wide in terror.

"GUYS! HE'S AWAKE! COME QUICK!" Without another word, a bushy haired girl, who Draco's mind identified as a Mudblood before even remembering her name, ran through the tent. She launched herself at the bed, slamming into Draco and almost shoving him off the bed completely. His muscles stayed taut as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Her words were muffled, but loud enough to hear despite. "Draco! I'm so happy you're okay! We thought--We thought you were--Oh Merlin, you're awake!"

If somehow possible, Malfoy froze up even more as two figures almost tripped over themselves to get through the tent's entrance. They finally managed, and hurried over to the Malfoy and the Mudblood.

"Ah, you're awake! We were real worried, didn't know what to do!" Weasley said, smiling in an exhausted, relieved manner.

"Glad to see you up and breathing, mate." Said the one and only, stupid face, stupid scar, moronic Harry Potter.

Somewhere in Draco's confused, unsure, panicking thoughts, he wished that someone would hit him with a rock and send him back into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

For a few seconds, there was silence. It seemed to be Draco's turn to speak, but he had no idea what to say. What would one say in this situation? He couldn't even figure out why in Merlin's name he was being hugged by a--gag--Mudblood, so how would he figure out anything else? Speaking of which, he was being  _hugged by a Mudblood!_

His body moving before his mind, his arms shot out in front of him, shoving the girl off of him. She made a choked noise of surprise, her front end off the bed first, followed shortly after by her legs. She landed in an ungraceful pile of limbs with a yelp and a thud. "Get off me, you filthy little Mudblood!" Draco snapped, venom dripping from his words, the strength of the poison covering his shock quite easily. "You could have a disease, for all I know! Don't touch me!" His lip curled in a disgusted sneer. The shock seemed to have kickstarted his body into working properly, and he pushed himself a few inches near the side of the bed, trying to put space between him and that awful trio of terror. His hand shot to his side to grab his wand, but his fingers clamped down on thin air. His gaze flicked to where his wand should be, and he suddenly realized that he wasn't wearing his clothes. He was wearing. . .Was that Muggle attire? His upper body was clothed with a pale, long sleeved grey top, the inside felt soft, and as he turned his head to investigate the weight on his neck, he noticed the hood attached to it. He pushed the thin blankets off of his legs, grunting to untangle them from the fabric. His legs were clothed in the same fabric as the hooded top, with a drawstring around the waist. What the hell? His confusion regarding the clothes had made him momentarily forget about his company, but his attention was snatched back as one of the boys--the Weasel, Draco noticed--charged forward.

"How dare you!" He just about howled, if it were not from his voice breaking halfway through his infuriated outburst. "Apologize to Hermione!" Ron snapped.

"Aww, is the Weasel standing up for his disgusting little girlfriend?" Draco retorted, easily falling back on the familiar act of being a prat, despite the uncomfortable situation he found himself in. "What an amazing idea, Weasel! If you get her," He paused, giving Granger a look. "Or,  _it_ , under your belt, you could sell her off! You might be able to buy yourself decent clothes if you had her big mouth working for you." He sneered. "I doubt it's not used to it. How else would a filthy Mudblood get such good grades? She had to work for them."

Three jaws dropped open. Draco wasn't expecting that reaction, but he would take what he could get. As he looked at the trio's faces, he couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. Or, at the very least, something was different than it usually was. Weasley's face was turning a splotchy red, which was expected, but he also had an expression of triumph, as if he had won a very large bet. Potter was staring at him, his brow furrowed, glancing about Draco's face as if searching for something. And Hermione, well. . .That was the most odd thing he could think of.

Her face was very red, and her eyes were as watery as they could be without spilling over. Her mouth moved like a fish out of water, but other than that, she was very still. Her eyes were the only other thing that moved, and that wasn't even all that true. They stayed locked on Draco, but they were flashing with too many emotions for Draco to identify at once. Pain and hurt were the main ones, unsurprisingly, and there was surprise, shock, horror, humiliation, and. . .Disappointment? Draco was quite used to seeing that emotion, but it had usually come from his father. Why would Granger be disappointed?

And then, everything moved at once. Weasley pounced, quite literally, and knocked Draco off the small bed. Draco landed with a thump and a gasp, the air leaving his lungs as his back slammed against the hard floor. Potter yelled something, Granger screamed. Weasley was on top of him, and before Draco had any idea what was happening, his fist connected soundly with his pale nose. Draco heard a crack, his eyes instantly began to water. He tried to pull air back into his lungs, but the blood gushing down his throat made it much more difficult than it usually would be. He choked, his throat attempting to close to keep the blood from spilling down the wrong pipe and into his lungs.

He tried to shove the taller boy off of him, before he had even a moment of possible success, a fist connected with his cheek. Pain bloomed through the left side of his face, he felt the inside of his cheek tear. Draco shoved, pushed, but he had never had any need to practice physical strength.

His saviour was, to his dismay as well as his relief, Potter. Weasley roared as he was heaved off, and the two Gryffindor boys stumbled and tripped backwards as Potter attempted to put distance between the redhead and the blond. Granger had moved from her frozen position from moments earlier, and dropped to her knees beside Draco, talking soothingly to him as she assessed the damage. At least, the effect  _would_  have been soothing, if her voice wasn't so high pitched with panic. Now, without the weight on top of him, Draco was able to sit upright. He shoved the girl away, pushing himself to a sitting position. He took in a shaky breath, halting halfway through to cough up blood that had went done the wrong way. Blood gushed from his nose, his mouth, and from a gash on his cheek, making the majority of his face below his cheekbones smeared grossly with sticky crimson.

"RONALD!" Granger shrieked, after her expression of surprise and pain shifted into one of anger. She rounded on him, her posture stiff and angry. "How  _dare_  you! He is healing! You could have seriously hurt him!" She cast a glance over her shoulder at Draco, who had his hands to his face, trying to quell the blood that even spilled from between his fingers. "You probably did! What if you had--UGH!" She wasted no time before going into a verbal rampage, and if Draco had looked over, he would have snorted at the expression of horror on the Weasel's face. Weasley quickly tried to defend himself, but every attempt was silenced by the Mudblood. After a good minute, she stopped, hearing a wet choking from behind her. She cast a dark look at Weasley before she spun around, pulling out her wand from her pocket and pointing it at Draco. She twirled the wand, speaking an incantation firmly. Draco instantly felt the blood stop gushing. He didn't bother to acknowledge it. He used the long sleeves of his hooded sweater to wipe at the blood on his face, making a face of disgust. He opened his mouth to gasp out a breath, and blood spilled out like water from a nearly empty jug.

His eyes flickered closed, before opening quickly. He felt queasy, he distantly noticed that the tent seemed to be spilling. Did someone cast an illusion charm?

The next time the trio glanced over at him, he was out cold.

O-o-O-o-O

_Months earlier,_

He stared ahead of him,recounting the conversation he had just had regarding Albus Dumbledore and his family. Was any of it true? Was Dumbledore really not as good as everyone had thought he was? Harry frowned, barely noticing what was going on around him, and did not realize that Hermione had appeared out of the crowd until she drew up a chair beside him.

"I simply can't dance anymore," she panted, slipping of one of her shoes and rubbing the sole of her foot. "Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers. It's a bit odd. I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing. He almost shoved a blond boy over as he left, too!" She dropped her voice, staring at him. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry did not know where to begin, or if he should just turn the conversation to the rudeness of Viktor, but it did not matter, at that moment, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

There was silence. Everyone stared. Then, someone screamed. It kicked everyone into a panic, and by the time the cat vanished into a wisp of smoke, everyone was moving. Many were disapparating, the protective charms and enchantments around the Burrow had been broken. Hermione called out for Ron, and Harry followed as she ran, searching for the third member to their trio. Cloaked people came out of nowhere, and everywhere around them, there was mayhem.

Harry didn't remember much, but the next thing he knew, he was Disapparating. He had never liked doing it, but it was even worse when he was panicking. He reappeared, Hermione and Ron did as well. Within the next few minutes, they were changed into Muggles clothes, annoyed with drunks, and walking into a cafe, Harry under the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione was sure to hold the door open for a few seconds longer than seemed necessary, just to make sure that Harry had gotten into the cafe with them.

As they sat down and ordered, two burly workmen came into the cafe, a shorter man in between the two. The shorter one was wearing jeans and a hoodie, the hood pulled up and cascading his face in shadows. If it weren't for the signature way that every man walked, Harry might have assumed it was a woman. Ron and Hermione talked between themselves, with Harry piping up whenever he felt he should, careful to keep his voice down. The waitress came over to take their order, and Hermione and Ron both ordered coffee. Harry was under the cloak, so it would look quite odd to order one for him. Ron took a sip, then made a face, sticking out his tongue as if that would stop the taste from doing down his throat. "This tastes awful!" He mumbled. The waitress heard, and shot him a dirty look before walking to take the three men's orders. She was waved away. She stared, affronted. "I don't want to drink this muck. It looks like dish water." Ron tilted the cup, letting the liquid move around the edge. "Do you have Muggle money to pay for this, Hermione?" Hermione said something in reply, but Harry had tuned out of the conversation. He glanced over at the workmen and hooded teenager, more for something to look at than actual curiosity. He saw the workmen, followed shortly after by the teenager, make identical, familiar movements. He quickly mirrored it. Harry's hand shot to his pocket without a second though, drawing his wand. The three men across the cafe couldn't see him, and therefore didn't know to defend themselves. The workmen yelled out incantations, and Ron, a bit slow on the uptake, knocked Hermione out of the way just in time. The tiled wall behind them shattered with a mighty crash from the force of the spell, and the barista shrieked. She bolted for the door, but was hit with a flash of red light and dropped as Hermione cast a spell. "Stupefy!" Harry shouted, after tugging the Invisibility Cloak off of his wand hand. It hit one of the workmen, who toppled to the ground. The other large man looked around for the source of the spell casting, his ugly face twisted in confusion.

For a minute or two, the cafe was the subject of a dozen curses send to and fro, the three Gryffindors against the two workmen, the hooded teenager now nowhere in sight. Harry assumed that a curse had hit him. After a good few minutes of magical warfare between the three teenagers and the last standing man, the teenagers came out on top. Breathing heavily, they instinctively stepped closer together, and Harry's hand cramped around his wand. He put it back in his pocket, stretching his fingers.

"Well, fat load of good that did us to go into Muggle London," Ron said, brow furrowed. "How did they find us? Harry, you don't still have your Trace on you, do you?"

"No," Hermione butted in, her lips pursed as she thought it through. "The Trace breaks at seventeen. You can't put a Trace on an adult. He can do as much magic as he'd like now that his birthday has passed."

"Obviously he can't, 'Mione! You can't trace Disapparation, so that's the only other option." Ron retorted.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Harry cut her, as well as her no doubt long winded reply, off. "It doesn't matter how we were followed, it matters that it happened. So, where can we go?"

There was silence between them for a few moments, before Hermione said determinedly, "Grimmauld Place."

"Are you serious? It doesn't matter what charms there are on that house, Snape knows about it!" Ron said. "Do we really want Dumbledore's bloody murderer to know where we are?"

Harry agreed with Hermione. "The Order said that there were spells to repel Snape, right? I'm sure it's safe. And anyways, anywhere is safer than here." He nodded in the direction of the Stupefied 'workmen'. A quick exchange between the trio found that the two men were followers of Voldemort, which just made the urgency even more prevelant.

"Fine, let's go. Hermione, you can Apparate us there, right? I don't want to Splice myself, and I'm. . ." Ron flushed, glancing down at his hand, his knuckles white around his wand. He tucked it in his pocket. "Not focused right now."

Harry had never liked Apparation, but being Side-Alonged was easier than doing it himself, so at least he could do the lesser of two evils. Hermione cast a quick spell to the damage around the cafe, and once it looked like it had to begin with, she nodded in satisfaction. "Hold on, boys." At her order, Harry and Ron moved to grab onto her hand. She checked to make sure everything was in order, then they all turned on the spot.

The moment before Harry vanished, he felt a cold hand clamp down on his wrist.

 

Harry didn't even have time to gasp before he was squeezed. The air was forced out of his lungs, the darkness around him began pushing, squeezing harder than a boa constrictor. Just as he felt that his body would collapse in on itself, he was released. His feet touched hard ground, and the sudden impact made his legs buckle. His grip on Hermione's hand kept him upright, as she landed gracefully. Ron made an unpleasant noise, but otherwise seemed alright. Harry let go of Hermione's hand, then froze.

The hand. Someone grabbed him. Who--

Hermione inhaled sharply, her entire body tensing as her eyes locked onto something beside Harry, who was still reeling from the Apparation. He didn't even have time to think through what was happening as she opened the front door to Grimmauld Place, then shoved the two Gryffindor boys inside.

The door slammed shut.

Hermione waved her wand, pronouncing a spell as she magically locked the front door. Once that was done, she spun around, her wand pointing to the young man on the doorstep. She spared a quick glance to the street, where two robed Death Eaters were standing, staring suspiciously at the house. Just because the charms in play kept the house from being seen, didn't keep it from being heard. She mentally kicked herself for slamming the door.

But she didn't have  _time_  to think about Death Eaters!

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" She hissed, teeth bared in an aggressive snarl that was quite unlike her usual self. This was not the time for being usual. A flick of her wand forced the blond boy to his feet, slamming his back against the door. Thank Merlin she had magic, she wouldn't have been able to use brute force to do that, even though the boy was much lighter than he had been the last time they met.

"How did you even  _get_ here?! There are wards around this house!" She stepped forward, jabbing the end of her wand against the boy's throat, small sparks issuing from the tip due to her unsuccessful attempts at holding back her emotions.

Malfoy flinched back from the wand, tilting his chin up in what may have been an attempt to move back, or perhaps hungering for magic to lash out and snip his jugular. His upper lip pulled up and sideways, sneering despite the situation. "Get off me, you filthy Mudblood, don't touch me!" He snapped, venom splashing from his lips and coating his every word.

Hermione pushed her wand harder as the foul word left the boy's mouth, her expression darkening. "Keep your voice down!" She growled, jerking her head behind her.

Malfoy opened his mouth, taking in a breath in preparation to shout at her to go stuff it, but then his gaze followed her gesture. The intake of breath halted, only letting out a few seconds later. His eyes flashed with recognition at the two dark robed men standing by the street. They were staring at him, eyes narrowed. Malfoy felt his throat start to close right before he noticed that, no, they weren't looking at him. They seemed to be looking for something, yes, but their eyes didn't lock onto the house, the yard, or the two teenagers on the doorstep.

Hermione jutted out her chin. "They aren't deaf, so if you value your life, keep your voice  _down_." From the dark look on her face, Malfoy wasn't sure if it was the Death Eaters he should keep quiet for. "Now, I'll ask you again. Why--are--you--here--?" With each questioning word, she jabbed him in the throat, earning a pained cringe every time. She waited expectantly, her teeth gritted.

Malfoy began to take a breath. He was used to this. To having his life threatened. He had been threatened by You-Know-Who, for Merlin's sake, his entire family was! So this was nothing. Still, it was hard to speak with a wand pushing against his throat, due to the physical pain, as well as the fearful lump in his throat.

"I'm not here to kill you."

"That was  _not_ what I asked!"

"I came with you." At Hermione's unamused glower, he elaborated. "I Disapparated, I mean. With you three. I grabbed Potter right before you three," His hand twitched in a feeble gesture. "came here. Listen, Mudblood, this is important, I need to speak to Potter."

"Don't call me that," She hissed, staring at him searchingly. He glowered right back at her, and after a good ten seconds of silence, the staring contest ended. Hermione looked away, grabbing onto the front of Malfoy's hoodie and tugging him away from the door. The tug caused his feet to step forward and catch himself, but his legs got tangled with each other and he crumbled with an odd noise of surprise. His pale face splotched with red, and he shot a dark glare up at the girl as he untangled his legs and pushed himself back upright. "Prat." He muttered.

Hermione heard him quite clearly, and could feel the hot glare on the back of her head, but rather than turn and look at him, she flicked her wrist, unlocking the door. She put her hand on the handle, and before she opened it, she hissed to the boy, "If you try anything funny, Malfoy, I will aim every hex I know at you." She opened the door and took one step inside, holding a hand out to the side to signal that Malfoy would not follow. She paused as she saw the two Gryffindor boys leaning against the hallway wall, breathing heavily. Their eyes snapped over to her, and in an instant, they began to speak.

"There was a charm, a hex, a--" Ron began, his voice not all too steady.

"Dumbledore attacked us, from the dust, he--" Harry continued.

"Our tongues were tied first, then he rose up and--"

"He looked hollow and  _dead_."

"And he screamed at us! Didn't hurt us though, Harry told him that we didn't kill him, and he exploded into dust."

Both of them shuddered, and Harry spoke. "A real fright if Snape showed his face here, that's for sure." Finally, the two boys noticed Hermione's silence.

"Everything 'right, 'Mione?" Ron asked, quizzical.

Hermione pursed her lips, neither nodding nor shaking her head. She reached slightly out of the door, grabbed something, then tugged it forward. After a moment of struggle, Draco Malfoy stumbled through the doorway, sneering at the girl who had a tight grip on the front of his hooded sweater. He looked up, and all three boys locked eyes.

Everyone froze.

 


End file.
